As agreed, Modern Life immediately acquired Lionel's first full-length novel, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
Mr. Georges Charpentier paid 5 sous more per line than Paul Pigou, but he believed it was worth it.
Considering that the target audience for Modern Life comprised high-society ladies and wealthy middle-class families, they wouldn't want to see the novel later than ordinary citizens who could only afford the 5-centime Le Petit Parisien.
Maintaining this small sense of "superiority" was very helpful in upholding Modern Life's style.
At the same time, after discussing with Lionel, Mr. Charpentier decided to adopt an ingenious marketing strategy for Modern Life — which is why the weekly's illustrator, Renoir, was sitting beside editor-in-chief Émile Bergerat.
Their heads were close together as they read the freshly released The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
Émile Bergerat had learned the general outline of the story from Mr. Charpentier a few days ago, but upon reading it, he still found it incredible.
The novel did not begin with the birth of the protagonist, "Benjamin Button," but employed a reverse chronological narrative.
An old woman named "Daphné Villeneuve," in her final moments, amidst the cannon fire of the Allied forces fighting the Commune, has her daughter, "Caroline," begin the life story of this "backward-growing" character by reading "Benjamin Button's" diary.
And "his" life began with similar turmoil—
[My name is Benjamin, Benjamin Button.
My birth was unusual, it was July 14, 1789, in Paris.
It was said that day the heat wave was like a layer of scorching grease, and the air was filled with the smell of fear, sulfur, and rotting garbage, like a graveyard.
The streets had become boiling torrents.
In the distance, towards the Tuileries Palace, thick smoke billowed.
From Pont Neuf, cheers from the Bastille came in waves.
My father—Luc de Button—was like a fly trapped under a glass dome.
He paced futilely in the small, stuffy living room.
Sweat drenched the back of his linen shirt, and he tightly clutched the corner of his clothing, as if it were the only lifeline he could grasp.
Behind the door, the women's screams grew more piercing and brief with each passing moment, and with each scream, Luc's body trembled violently, almost knocking over a chair.
Inside was my mother, named Claire.]
"Beginning with a revolution, ending with a revolution? Interesting!"
Renoir, being a painter, already had scenes from the novel forming in his mind—
On one side, an old woman lying dying under the sky reddened by the Paris Commune barricade fighting;
On the other side, a woman in labor struggling to give birth amidst the smoke of the Revolution.
One symbolized life nearing its end; the other, a new life about to begin.
Combined with the backdrop of two great movements that directly determined France's fate, the implications were self-evident and full of imaginative space.
Émile Bergerat praised,
"Mr. Charpentier was right, even without the 'backward-growing' gimmick, this opening alone is enough to captivate readers."
Renoir shook his head,
"If it were just that, this novel would be as dull and mediocre as the other novels you've had me illustrate before..."
Émile Bergerat was furious,
"Are you saying my taste is bad?"
Renoir shrugged, offering no reply.
Émile Bergerat "hmphed" and turned away, continuing to read—
Luc de Button, at the doctor's prompting, entered the room and saw his wife:
[His young wife Claire, his gentle and serene Claire, lay silently slumped on the bed like a leaf torn by a gale, beneath her was a startling, deep crimson that almost spread to the floor.
Her once vibrant face was lifeless, grey and withered like a dust-covered plaster statue.
The last warmth of life was rapidly fading from her body.]
Immediately afterward, he saw his child—
[It was a little old man who looked at least seventy years old.
A body covered in wrinkles and age spots, a few sparse strands of grayish-white hair, heavy eyelids drooping, almost covering his entire eyes, leaving only a narrow slit; a collapsed nasal bridge, shrunken gums encasing a few yellowish baby teeth.
And tiny hands and legs like withered tree branches.
The skin was terribly loose, like a shabby, ill-fitting coat that could slip off at any moment.
—That was me.
Perhaps sensing his father's gaze, the infant made a sound, not a clear cry, but a discontinuous, hoarse cough, like a rusty door hinge turning.
—Ha, all this Luc Button told me during the last few years of his life, he endlessly repeated every detail to me, so vividly as if it happened yesterday, and I, like a ghost, hovered on the ceiling of that delivery room, watching this poor father and son.]
"Ha, I'd say, children can indeed be quite ugly when they're born, sometimes looking like old men.
My first son, Régis, looked rather similar!"
Émile Bergerat joked.
Renoir retorted impatiently,
"Did Régis have age spots and grayish-white hair?
Did he cry like an old man coughing with laryngitis?"
Émile Bergerat was speechless from the retort—this was also why he agreed to let Renoir work in his studio instead of the editorial office daily.
The two truly couldn't see eye to eye.
However, Renoir was also troubled because Lionel's description of the baby as a "little old man of seventy" was difficult to handle.
It wasn't that he couldn't draw a baby that looked like an old man, but he had to consider Modern Life's audience, ensuring that the self-proclaimed elegant and tasteful gentlemen and ladies wouldn't feel uncomfortable or disgusted.
But this was something for the illustrator to consider, while Émile Bergerat was more focused on the metaphor behind the novel's plot—
["Monster!" Luc's voice revealed instinctive fear and revulsion.
He staggered backward, his back hitting the cold stone wall hard.
"No! For God's sake!"
Claire awoke, pleading with her last strength:
"He's alive! He... he's breathing! It's a boy! Mr. Button, promise me, give him a place to stay..."
Luc's movements froze, his bloodshot eyes fixed on that ugly, whimpering wrinkled mass, while Claire's body rapidly cooled, finally losing all color.
Outside the window, a more frantic din suddenly crashed in, mixed with the crisp sound of breaking glass and the furious shouts of the crowd:
"Hang the aristocrats! Burn their dog kennels!"
...]
Luc Button ultimately did not follow his wife's dying wish, choosing instead to abandon the child at the Salpêtrière poorhouse near Place du Châtelet.
The reason was not only the child's strange appearance; he feared being seen by revolutionaries as an accomplice of the devil, that the child was the product of a curse from decadent aristocrats, or even worse!
Only by sending him to the poorhouse could both have a sliver of hope for survival.
After finishing, Émile Bergerat asked Renoir,
"What do you think?"
Renoir nodded,
"It's a good novel, I can do one illustration for it... Hmm, I think combining 'old woman dying' and 'baby being born' would have a strong visual impact..."
Émile Bergerat waved his hand,
"One? Mr. Charpentier said that each issue of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button must have at least four illustrations, and all in color!"
Renoir jumped out of his chair in shock,
"Four? You want to work me to death! Color printing? Has Georges gone mad, does he want to lose all of 'Charpentier's Bookshelf'?"
Émile Bergerat showed a meaningful smile,
"No, Mr. Charpentier has been enlightened... To be precise, he's been enlightened by Lionel Sorel!"
(End of Chapter)
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